


An Admiral's Right

by tristesses



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Outbound Flight - Timothy Zahn
Genre: Blindfolds, Boot Worship, Choking, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Femdom, Humiliation, Light Bondage, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Mind Games, Power Imbalance, Punishment, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18483391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: Mitth'raw'nuruodo gets a promotion, and doesn't care for it. Admiral Ar'alani takes offense.





	An Admiral's Right

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shanlyrical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shanlyrical/gifts).



The _k'toebim_ was cold. Iced, as a matter of fact; a few melted shards dwindled in the liquid. Another one of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's peculiarities, to serve it over ice instead of room temperature as was traditional. Ar'alani wiped the condensation off the glass with one finger and watched the drop of clear liquid roll down her palm and into the sleeve of her tunic. It absorbed quickly and would evaporate just as fast.

From the level of _k'toebim_ in the glass, assuming he had poured it and left, she judged he had been gone for at least an hour. Perhaps she would surprise him upon his return; she did not often stop by her former students' quarters. Once they had commands of their own, she preferred to step back and let them take flight without her tutelage or favor. 

This made her unusual in the Defense Hierarchy, which like the Ruling Families ran on nepotism and manipulation. Ar'alani was very good at that game, but she had had few political allies while dragging herself up the ranks of command, and she rather thought it was good for her students to experience the same. Too many of them were spoiled children—no, not spoiled; _coddled_. Her students were never brats, but they had never wanted for anything, never had to struggle to achieve greatness. Ar'alani found it built character if they were forced to do so.

But Mitth'raw'nuruodo had not needed that. He had struggled enough: born a commoner, which even Ar'alani had not been, and then, of course, there were his… _unique_ tactics and political viewpoints, which had always caused friction.

She picked up the glass and raised it to her lips. Unusual, pairing the spicy-sweet taste of the alcohol with ice, but not unpleasant. Perhaps it was a metaphor for the man himself.

She heard the door slide open, sensed Mitth'raw'nuruodo see her and check himself before striding into his quarters. Her back was to him, but she could feel the heat of his gaze, imagine the thousands of calculations in his head as he determined what, exactly, had brought her here today.

"Admiral," he said, his tone cordial, with an edge of disapproval. Perfectly honed for the situation. Ar'alani appreciated that. She set the glass down and turned.

"Commander," she said. He was stiff with annoyance. She truly _had_ taken him by surprise; the part of her mind that kept score was pleased by this. "Greetings. Are you enjoying your current position?"

Mitth'raw'nuruodo glanced around his quarters, then held out a hand in an expansive gesture.

"Certainly," he said. "I am pleased with what the Hierarchy has given me." He inclined his head toward her. "How can I serve you today, Admiral?"

"I'm here to deliver your new assignment," she said. There was no point running around the _taun'i_ den. "You are promoted to the rank of captain and transferred to CI."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo did not move, but heat rushed to his face. She examined his facial glow, the minute flare of his nostrils, the way his lips pressed together for the briefest of moments before he smoothed his expression out again. He was angry.

"Chiss Intelligence," he said flatly.

"Is there a problem, Commander?" Ar'alani asked. "This is a promotion. I would have thought you'd be pleased."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo narrowed his eyes, then crossed the room, brushing past her in an astonishing gesture of disrespect, and sat down. He pushed out the other chair with his foot, and gestured her to it. Ar'alani stared at him in disbelief.

"I am pleased that the Hierarchy sees me fit to promote," he said evenly. "I am not pleased with the move to CI. Tell me, Admiral, is that really where you think my skills are best used?"

_Better that than blasting neutral parties out of the skies because you_ think _they might be a threat_ , she thought. Out loud, she said, fighting to match his even tone, "You have always outpaced other students in your tier in both academics and strategy. Your studies of other cultures are exhaustive. You are both mentally and physically an excellent match for the position. Yes, I think you would make an exceptional intelligence operative."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo stared at her for a long moment, then said, voice hard, "Admiral, you know nothing about my skills if that is what you think of me."

"I trained you," Ar'alani said, her own voice stiffening to match his. "You served as a cadet on _my_ ship, under _my_ tutelage. I know your strengths and I know—"

"No," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said, cutting her off, dismissive. "You have no idea. You are operating off outdated data. Perhaps you haven't paid as close attention as you thought." His voice edged from dismissal to malice. "Or perhaps it's just slipped your mind. That happens as people age. Have you noticed any other signs of dementia, Admiral?"

" _Watch your mouth._ "

He stopped talking, but it was too late. He had gotten a rise out of her, which was what he wanted. His eyes were amused, challenging. _What are you going to do?_

"Speak to me like that again, Mitth'raw'nuruodo," she said, every word carefully chosen to cut, "and I will have you broken to ensign for disrespect of a commanding officer."

The slightest flicker in his expression.

"I am too valuable to the Defense Fleet," he said. "Like it or not, Admiral, I get results. The other admirals wouldn't stand for it."

"You vastly overestimate your importance," she said acidly. He didn't flinch—of course he wouldn't—but he went very still, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Which admiral would you go to for help? Who in the Hierarchy would support you against me?"

The answer, of course, was no one. Ar'alani had been his major ally—his _only_ ally—for years now. Mitth'raw'nuruodo knew it, too. His eyes flickered over her shoulder, and she could nearly see him bite back a retort.

Instead, he said, "Very well, Admiral."

It wasn't enough. Ar'alani was seething and this little concession didn't sate her anger. She stepped closer to him, then again, until she was standing just a half meter away him. He glanced up at her with an affectedly neutral expression.

Until she said, very quietly, "Get on your knees."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo stared at her. He was right to be suprised; corporal punishment hadn't been widely used in the military for half a century—but it _was_ still used among the older generation. Appropriate, Ar'alani thought spitefully, considering he had called her too old to be competent.

"This is most unusual," Mitth'raw'nuruodo said carefully.

"This is my right as an admiral," Ar'alani said coldly. "Get. On. Your. Knees."

He considered this for a second; Ar'alani could see the calculations flashing behind his eyes. Then he sank to knees, sliding out of the chair with grace, kneeling at her feet.

"Good boy," Ar'alani said, and felt a smirk curl her lips when his lips pressed tightly together. Mitth'raw'nuruodo was prideful, but damaging that pride was difficult. What he hated more than anything was feeling powerless. That was how she had to punish him. Humiliating him in the process was just a bonus pleasure.

It was an _unethical_ pleasure, but no one in the upper echelon of the Defense Hierarchy got there by behaving particularly ethically.

She touched the top of his head lightly. He wore his hair slicked back, not a particularly fashionable style, but one that strictly adhered to the Defense Fleet dress code. There was a stray piece that hadn't been sufficiently gelled, a little cowlick curling behind his ear. She brushed it back, her fingertips skating across his ear, and he gave a full-body shiver.

Ar'alani stopped.

Carefully, she put her fingers under his chin and tilted it back, bending over to look in his eyes. He did not meet her gaze, his eyes somewhere over her shoulder, his face a mask. His skin was hot, glowing in infrared; he was blushing. Now _that_ was interesting.

Testing his boundaries, Ar'alani brushed her thumb over his lower lip. Mitth'raw'nuruodo inhaled very slightly, that was all, but his facial glow increased, and blood didn't lie.

Ar'alani became suddenly aware of her own heartbeat, her pulse in her throat, the softness of Mitth'raw'nuruodo's skin under her hand. She had not contemplated this sort of relationship with him before, or with any of her students, though it was common enough between mentor and mentee, in the sense that everyone knew it happened, but no one talked about it. In public, at least.

She wondered—

She drew her hand back and slapped him, hard enough to make his head jerk to the side. This was a punishment, and she would not do him the dishonor of treating him delicately.

He resumed staring into the distance, but his breathing was shallow. The purple mark of her handprint stood out on his face like a brand. She put her hand to his hair again, but this time she tangled her fingers in the thick locks and yanked hard, forcing his head up, forcing him to look at her, and he gasped.

His eyes, when they met hers, were burning, but his lips were parted. She held his gaze for a long minute, then said, "Show me respect and I will consider you adequately punished."

She let him go. Mitth'raw'nuruodo sat still for a moment, then put each hand on the floor, and very deliberately leaned over and put his lips to her snow-white boot.

She liked that very much.

"The other one, now," she said, and he obeyed, not glancing up. He made a very pretty picture, prim and proper in his Defense Fleet uniform, but with his hair disheveled and his face freshly slapped, kneeling before her and trembling just slightly. Inside her, her tendrils were slowly unfurling; she was getting wet. "Good. You may stand."

He did not stand. Instead, he paused for a moment, then pressed his lips to her ankle. Again on the other side, and this time he opened his mouth and licked along her boot.

He was manipulating her. She was fully aware of it; Mitth'raw'nuruodo would never give into his own desire like this. As long as she knew it, though, she could stay one step ahead of him.

Striking quickly enough to take him by surprise, she pushed him flat on his back with her foot; he smacked the floor hard and hissed, but before he could get up, she put her boot across his throat and pinned him there.

"Admiral," he said, his voice slightly choked—from the pressure, she assumed. But there was a spark of arousal in his voice too, and when she glanced down the length of his body, she saw a bulge and a damp spot on the front of his uniform-issue trousers.

Ar'alani took a guess, and said, "We are past the point of you saying no, Thrawn."

He twitched, and so did the bulge in his pants.

"It is your right," he said hoarsely, "as admiral."

"Correct." She increased the pressure on his throat slightly, then stepped off. His hand went to his neck, which was already beginning to bruise. She would have him covered in her marks by the end of this session.

"Take off your clothes," she ordered. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her, unruffled despite his dishevelment, despite the glow of his skin and how his eyes were burning brighter than usual.

"No," he said.

"Do I have to call my honor guard in to tear that uniform off you?" she asked, voice low, and he shuddered. "Perhaps I will. But then again, perhaps you'd like that." 

"I wouldn't," he said. She raised her eyebrows.

"I don't care," she said, and found it was true. She didn't know what that said about her. "Take off your clothes, Thrawn."

Words had power, but only that given to them by their wielders; Mitth'raw'nuruodo would not have cared about her using his core name if she hadn't been so particular about it in the first place. Here, though, he knew it for the mark of disrespect it was.

His hands went to his collar, and he slowly unbuttoned it, sliding the zipper down to reveal a hard-muscled chest, his skin shaded a lighter blue than her deep cobalt; she was pure Csillan, while he came from distant Copero. Some would have cared; Ar'alani didn't.

"All of it," she said when he paused. He glanced to her then away, hesitant. Her hand went to her comm and she pressed the button to start broadcasting.

"Lieutenant," she said to her guard, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo's hands instantly went to his belt buckle.

"Yes, Admiral?" her guard responded crisply. Mitth'raw'nuruodo's hands were shaking, and his face, turned away from her, was flushed deeply hot; she could see the glow on his neck.

"I will be another hour here," she said, making a guess. "At least. Settle in for a wait."

"Yes, Admiral."

She clicked off and looked at Mitth'raw'nuruodo, who was working on his boots. He was hunched over as if protecting himself.

"I would never have taken you for the sort to be shy about nudity," she mused aloud.

"I am not," he said, and slipped off his trousers, leaving himself completely naked.

"Then prove it," she said. "Stand up."

He did.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo was a magnificent specimen of the Chiss species, she had to admit. She held up a finger and twirled it in the air. His eyes narrowed but he did as he was told, holding his hands out to the side and slowly turning on the spot, showing himself off completely. Chisled shoulders, the kind of muscle built through practice and not for show. Well-formed buttocks, firm and round. And of course, between his legs was his squirming sex, noticeably pulsing as it undulated, the hooked ridges at its base deep purple and secreting clear liquid.

Ar'alani gestured him closer with one finger, and he obeyed. They were of a height, thanks to her boots, and she cupped his cheek with one hand and gazed into his eyes. There was an expression there she couldn't place, something besides arousal. Carefully, she slid her hand around to the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

He was very bad at it. His mouth opened too wide and his teeth scraped against her lower lip. She hissed and shoved him away, making him stumble. When she put her hand to her lip, it came away bloody.

"Who have you been kissing?" she asked contemptuously. "I pity them."

Mitth'raw'nuruodo stiffened and said nothing, his gaze turning glacial.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" she murmured, and reached forward, smearing her blood across his chest. Marked again. "Were you rejected by someone you love?"

No response. She tried again.

"Or is it that you've never been loved?"

His eyes jerked to her.

"Sex was never my priority," he said evenly, though his trembling belied his emotions. "I had no easy opportunities, so I never tried."

Ar'alani had been about to point out that she'd asked about love, not sex, when the implications of his statement hit her.

"You've never been touched like this," she said softly. "Now, _that_ is interesting."

She took a step closer, crowding him against the table.

"You should have said something earlier," she said. "I would have been gentler. Or perhaps you wouldn't have liked that."

"I don't think what I like matters right now," he murmured.

"Correct," she said, and placed a palm against his chest. His skin was hot with arousal. She knew what that strange emotion was, now: nervousness, maybe even fear. She'd never seen it in Mitth'raw'nuruodo's eyes before, even when he was a raw cadet. She trailed a finger down his chest, watching goosebumps erupt on his arms, and very gently stroked the hooks around the base of his sex. They uncurled as her fingers brushed against them, and Mitth'raw'nuruodo made a gutteral noise.

"So you've never felt this before," she said. "Tell me, Thrawn, is it better than your own hand?"

A very slight nod.

"Use your words."

"Yes, Admiral," he breathed. He was watching her very carefully, his entire body tense. "It is."

"I am going to teach you something," she said. "Consider it an elaboration on your previous education. Lie on your back."

His eyebrow quirked but he obeyed. Ar'alani took off her belt, then her admiral's sash.

"Hands above your head," she commanded, and once they were there, she wrapped the belt around his wrists and around one of the table legs. He frowned at her slightly, wariness in his eyes. He didn't like being restrained. Or perhaps he liked it too much; lubrication was dripping from the hooks down his thighs, onto the floor.

"Now close your eyes," she said, and his eyes widened. "No?"

"No," he said. She wrapped her fingers around his throat and squeezed. His pulse raced against her thumb. She felt dizzy and light-headed; she'd never felt a rush quite like this before.

She would have stopped before he passed out. He didn't go that far, though, gasping out, "Yes, Admiral, yes," jerking against his restraints, his eyes closing.

"Such a punishment," she drawled. "You like it too much."

She slipped the sash over his eyes and tied with with an expert hand before he had processed that she'd stopped choking him.

Ar'alani left him there while she undressed, leaving her tunic on but taking off her trousers, undergarments and boots. Freed of confinement, her tendrils unfurled completely with a wet sound, curling against her thighs, seeking his hooks. She brushed her fingers across them and shuddered as they squirmed against her fingers, her jaw falling open.

She propped herself against the table, one leg on either side of Mitth'raw'nuruodo, and slid her fingers inside herself, the tendrils wrapping around her wrist, gritting her teeth to avoid making any undignified noises.

"Do you hear this, Thrawn?" she asked as the tendrils slid wetly between her fingers. Her body was sparking with pleasure and aching for something inside it. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"Then take it," she said, and sank to her knees, leaning back and putting her sex square on his face. Mitth'raw'nuruodo made a surprised choking sound but he rallied admirably, his mouth opening and his tongue licking at her frantically. Not the most sophisticated cunnilingus she'd ever received, but it was his first time. And that knowledge made it that much better.

She ground her hips against his face as he sucked and licked, little shivers running through her body. But her pleasure was not the point here, not precisely; it was his humiliation that mattered. She wanted Mitth'raw'nuruodo to fall apart under her hands.

Ar'alani leaned forward and brushed her tongue along his hooks. Below her, he made a strangled noise and his hips jerked up.

"Very good," she said softly, and licked a stripe up the column of his sex. She did it again, and again, before wrapping her lips around the head and sucking, her tongue swirling around the top as it squirmed in her mouth.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo whimpered.

That was a noise she wanted to hear again.

So she didn't stop; she kept sucking, nibbling, licking until he was gasping and groaning under her, his attention completely diverted from her body. It didn't matter. She was also preoccupied with him, his noises, the way he kept trying to arch his hips against her mouth but was pinned down by her firm hands.

"More," he whispered, and she said mockingly, "Say please."

He said nothing, so she licked up the liquid he'd secreted and sat down on his face again, running her nails along his sex and rubbing her thumb across the hooks until he was squirming and gasping again.

She raised her hips and said, "What is it?"

" _Please_ ," he said.

Ar'alani swung around and, before he could process what was happened, slid him inside her.

Her body welcomed him, thick and pulsating inside her, and her tendrils leapt and curled around his hooks, tying her firmly to him. Ar'alani shuddered hard and bit down on her fist to silence herself; the joining was always the most pleasurable part of sex, apart from climax itself. Mitth'raw'nuruodo couldn't contain himself. His wrists jerked against the bonds hard enough to bump the table, and his mouth was hanging open, his breathing shattered and rough.

Ar'alani ground her hips against him, rocking back and forth, and dragged her nails down his chest, leaving livid purple welts. Thoughts darted through her mind—bending him over the table and whipping him with her belt, making him cry, making him pleasure her on his knees suntil she came all over his face. Then less rational images—leashing him and making him crawl naked through the corridors of her ship, making him pleasure Aristocras and Syndics until his lips were swollen—not allowing him to climax for days, keeping his sex locked away, teasing him with her fingers but never giving him satisfaction—

Ar'alani climaxed in silence.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo was crying, the blindfold damp. She considered stopping; it would be cruel and she would enjoy the memory. But instead she ground down harder, and concentrated on making her tendrils clench and release, clench and release, around his hooks.

He was twitching and rolling his hips and moaning full-throated, and then he was spasming under her. Both of them had been sterilized upon joining the Defense Fleet; otherwise she would have been concerned by the gush of seed that came from his hooks and was promptly soaked up by her tendrils, which immediately pulled away from the hooks and started to draw back inside her, where she was open and stretched from riding him. 

Ar'alani dismounted. She made her way to the refresher and took her time cleaning up, wiping the sweat off her face and the come from her legs, before returning to the room where Mitth'raw'nurodo was still bound to the table. She put on her clothes before undoing his wrists and taking the sash off his eyes.

He sat up slowly, rubbing his wrist with one hand. His face was still and withdrawn; she couldn't read it.

Ar'alani stood with her arms crossed, looking down at him. He was still unruffled, she thought with a sudden rush of anger; she had done her best given her limited tools to devastate him, and nothing.

He rose to his feet and had to catch himself on the table, his legs were trembling so badly. Ar'alani cocked her head and watched him wordlessly. He looked up and met her gaze.

"Admiral," he said, voice hoarse. "I trust we have come to an agreement?"

It took Ar'alani a moment to realize what he meant.

"You think I did this as part of a deal?" she asked, incredulous.

Mitth'raw'nuruodo looked briefly perplexed, then his face shuttered again.

"What was the purpose, if not that?" he asked.

"Because I wanted to," Ar'alani said sharply.

They both considered that for a moment. Then Ar'alani sighed into the silence.

"If you turn down this promotion, I cannot guarantee you'll ever receive one again," she said. "I put forth a lot of effort to get this for you."

"Effort like I did?" Mitth'raw'nuruodo asked sardonically. Ar'alani met his gaze steadily.

"You will show me respect as due my rank, Commander," she said. "And I will show you the respect due yours."

"Understood," he said, and straightened. "May I be dismissed?"

His voice was too bland to be anything but mocking. Ar'alani was suddenly tired, and frustrated. She flicked her hand at him, and he bowed slightly before disappeared into the refresher.

She was filled with a pulsing frustration. Something had gone wrong; he wasn't broken, not even close.

Sometimes she thought she would never understand him.

Tucking the stained sash into a pocket, Ar'alani took a deep breath and pulled her dignity back together. The shower was running; she waited a moment but heard nothing else.

She stepped out of his quarters and gestured curtly to her honor guard. They fell into place, arrayed at her side and behind her.

She didn't look back.


End file.
